


Bones... Don't Go

by its_worse_than_that



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-07
Updated: 2017-12-07
Packaged: 2019-02-11 15:09:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12937890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/its_worse_than_that/pseuds/its_worse_than_that
Summary: A crowd of medical personnel gathered around the bed, their eyes on one person...





	Bones... Don't Go

A crowd of medical personnel gathered around the bed, their eyes on one person.  
Leonard McCoy held a hypo in his hands with what could (please, please, please, please) undo death. Despite the panic in his guts screaming at him to hurry, he’d taken his time on it, worked to make it as safe as possible, determined it would save Jim without transforming him too.  
Strangely, it had been Spock who had cut through Leonard’s blind panic with cool logic. After receiving treatment for the wounds caused in his fight with Khan, which, to Bones’ astonishment included tiny skull fractures, Spock had pointed out the most obvious fact. “Jim is in stasis. His body cannot decompose. You have all the time you could possibly need.”  
Even now, Spock’s words cooled the burn in Bones’ guts. His hand tightened around the hypo. He’d run every possible test, over and over again until he was certain. The serum would work.  
He glanced at his team. “Are we ready?”  
Everyone nodded.  
He looked at one person in particular. “Open the tube.”  
Carol Marcus nodded silently, fingers lightly tapping the controls. Once the pod defrosted, the glass slid away. Bones didn’t give himself time to think and reflect. He jabbed the hypo against Jim’s neck and dumped its contents into his friend.  
If this didn’t work…  
The team quickly lifted Jim out of the pod and placed him onto a bed. The sensors read negative: no pulse, no breathing, no brain activity. The moments after Bones administered the serum were the longest of his life. The tribble had taken a few hours, but he’d tweaked the serum’s chemical makeup to have a faster reaction. He didn’t blink, didn’t breathe, didn’t speak as he waited for the result he was sure, so sure, they would get.  
“Come on, come on…”  
And then, there it was.  
A single beep. And then another. And another, and another, and another, until the beeps became a steady, if sluggish, heartbeat.  
Life.  
And then, after spending five days in death, James Tiberius Kirk drew in a deep, shuddering breath.  
Bones remembered to breathe again too.  
Except Jim didn’t carry on.  
Cursing, Bones and his team activated various life support systems. The serum had worked one miracle, but apparently even it couldn’t fully overcome the effects of severe radiation poisoning, at least not without some modern medical help. And then, of course, there were the injuries from the beating he’d taken at Khan’s hands. They needed treatment too. There hadn’t been time until now…  
Glancing at readouts, Leonard watched as the serum slowly worked to rebuild Jim’s badly damaged cells. The pace was glacial, and the biobed’s readout indicated Jim was in a deep state of coma, so deep he couldn’t feel the agony surely tearing through him as his body rebuilt itself cell by cell.  
It was better that way, right? Jim was blank, empty…  
…But…  
…but he was alive.  
Bones’ knees went weak. He braced himself on Jim’s bed as his vision fractured. The tears came unbidden and uncontrollably. Someone placed a hand on his shoulder and he turned to see one of the nurses. She smiled and carefully pulled him away.  
“No, no, I can’t leave...”  
“Doctor McCoy, you need to step back.”  
He looked up and saw Doctor Boyce at the door. The older man wore a strangely gentle expression that didn’t quite fit his sterner tone.  
“Sir?” Bones asked tiredly.  
“You need a break,” Boyce responded, not unkindly. “You’ve worked longer hours than anyone to bring Kirk back but you won’t do yourself any favours if you work yourself into the ground.”  
“I can’t leave him now, not when –”  
“Not when he’s in Starfleet Medical, generally considered to be one of the most advanced facilities in the Federation, under the care of staff equally highly respected?”  
“…When you put it like that…”  
“Take some time. Clean up, sleep, eat and come back when you’re not ready to fall down.”  
Bones looked down at Jim. He was utterly senseless and currently reliant on technology to keep him breathing. He wouldn’t be waking up any time soon. But to leave him now, leave Jim when Bones thought he’d lost him forever. No…  
“His immune system will need support, and he’s got broken ribs and possible other internal injuries. And, ah…” What else? His brain skidded to a halt.  
“Leonard, I’ll call you if anything happens. Don’t make yourself sick.”  
The use of his first name shocked Bones into action. “He can have visitors, right?”  
“As soon as we’ve set him up in a private room, certainly.”  
Bones nodded. “Great.”  
“Ah, but only if I don’t see you sneaking around here for twelve hours.”  
“What? No, I –”  
“Can barely stand, have been through hell and need some time to get yourself together before you worry more about Kirk. Don’t make me sedate you and sign you off on medical leave, because I will.”  
“But Jim’s…”  
Boyce held up his hand. “Get away, get some fresh air and for the love of God, don’t come back until you’ve had a shower.”  
Flushing slightly, Bones nodded and set about making sure Jim wouldn’t be alone. Only when he was sure did he agree to Boyce’s terms and leave Starfleet Medical.  
But not before he oversaw Jim’s transfer into a private room and gave himself five minutes of just standing at Jim’s bedside, his warm hands clasping Jim’s still cold ones, willing the serum to work, dammit, faster, bring him back.  
He leaned down, pressed his forehead against Jim’s. No change. Not even a twitch.  
“I gotta go for a bit. I don’t want to, dammit, but I also don’t want my boss to jam a hypo against my neck. Yeah, laugh it up, I do it all the time. I’ll be back, okay? I swear I will. I just gotta sleep, Jim. Don’t go anywhere.”  
Leaving Jim in capable hands, Bones followed Boyce’s advice. He went home for the first time since the whole mess had begun, found something to eat, showered and collapsed face first into bed.  
He was asleep within seconds.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bones jerked awake and frantically groped for his PADD, checking for any news on Jim’s status. There was nothing. He wasn’t sure whether that was a good thing or not. He normally wouldn’t shower twice in under 24 hours, but considering the circumstances, it was necessary. He drug himself out of his bed and into the bathroom, turning on the shower. The moment he stepped under the water his chest constricted, making it feel like he couldn’t breathe. He felt like the world was falling down around him, like everything he’d ever known was being torn from him, all because of Jim fucking Kirk. He had the full intention of showering, but right now all he could do was stand under the water and sob.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spock and Uhura arrived once they could be spared from the relief efforts currently underway in the city. And, in Spock’s case, as soon as he could get out of yet another round of meetings with various admirals demanding to know what had happened. Their inability to refrain from asking the same question multiple times was… tiresome. The admirals wanted their answers, and Spock delivered them, over and over for days, until Admiral Komack recognised they were talking in circles and called an end to the discussion, promising they would pick it up again once Starfleet Headquarters and, just as importantly, San Francisco wasn’t falling down around them all. Everyone who could be spared aided the recovery effort.  
But right now their captain needed them. And Spock welcomed the rush of peace that soothed his frayed nerves upon entering the room and seeing Jim alive.  
Doctor Boyce looked up at them. “Hope you’re both feeling patient. He’s got some rough times ahead.”  
Spock spoke quietly with Doctor Boyce while Uhura sat at Kirk’s bedside, holding his hand and speaking quietly.  
“Hey, Captain,” she said, keeping her voice light even though her eyes filled with tears she didn’t expect. This time, though, they were tears of relief… even if a coma wasn’t exactly the kind of alive she wanted to see. “Doctor McCoy asked us to keep you company for a while. Not sure what he thinks you’ll try and do. Maybe he thinks I’ll have to call him and say you tried to escape via the laundry chute.”  
The steady beeps of the machines were the only response she received. And right now, that was enough. It had to be, didn’t it?  
“Spock’s here too. I didn’t have to do much to convince him to come. He said ‘Nyota, although it is a frivolous use of time to check on the status of a patient whose doctors have assured us is showing signs of recovery, especially when we are needed elsewhere to aid the relief effort, I believe confirming the reports for ourselves would, in this case, be beneficial to our own peace of mind’.”  
Uhura was rather proud of her Spock impression. Unfortunately, it didn’t bring about a sudden awakening.  
“I hope he finds a way to tell you how relieved he is,” she continued. “Because he is. And I am too.”  
She reached out, her hand brushing through Kirk’s hair. Maybe she did it to comfort herself, that this was all real and not some unkind dream, but she sincerely hoped Kirk – Jim – would somehow know he wasn’t alone.  
“I brought a book. It’s a classic work of Tellarite literature so it’ll take us a while to get through. How is your Tellarite, anyway? If you’re rusty, this will help.”  
But before she could begin, Spock stepped up to the bed. Uhura watched as he initiated a mind meld. It was, to her dismay and Spock’s visible concern, unsuccessful.  
“Spock?”  
“I thought perhaps Doctor Boyce was mistaken in his assessment that Jim is in a deep coma and that perhaps I would be able to reach him and assure him he is safe. I was unsuccessful.” He met Uhura’s concerned gaze. “It was a disconcerting feeling.”  
Uhura held out her hand. Spock took it. “He’s in there somewhere. Maybe he’s out of reach right now, but he’ll come back to us.” She looked deep into his eyes. “He’ll come back for his family.”  
“I believe you are right.”  
She smiled, took back her hand, and picked up her PADD. “All right,” she said, addressing both Spock and Kirk. “I hope you’re ready for your impromptu Tellarite Lit class.”  
Two hours later, Scotty came by, and Keenser too. Uhura paused mid-sentence, grateful for the break because Tellarite literature was every bit as argumentative as the species itself and there were only so many arguments and counterarguments she could follow in the course of a plot.  
Scotty seized one of Kirk’s hands and shook with silent sobs. Keenser silently patted him on the thigh. Spock kept his distance, but Nyota pulled Scotty into an embrace as soon as he allowed it. She absorbed his tears and gave him all the strength she could, uttering every soothing word she could think of. She wouldn’t allow anyone else she cared about to break.  
“I just… I cannae… He died… I could’ve stopped him… but… but then what would’ve happened? Ah, it’s all messed up in my head!”  
“Don’t you dare blame yourself,” Uhura said. “And don’t underestimate what you did to save us. We would’ve died in space if you hadn’t been on the Vengeance.”  
“Aye, I know, but –”  
“Jim’s alive,” Uhura said.  
Scotty took in the medical readouts with a sceptical eye. “He inn’t even breathing on his own.”  
“He will,” Uhura repeated. “We won’t have it any other way. You think he’ll give up on us now after everything he’s already done? After everything we did to bring him back?”  
“No,” Scotty relented. “No, I suppose not.”  
“We did not battle Khan only for the Captain to die,” Spock added.  
Nyota met his gaze. Maybe Scotty didn’t hear the passion in Spock’s voice, but she did.  
“You’re right.” Scotty took a seat, sniffed noisily and pulled himself together. He patted Keenser’s shoulder and took a deep breath. “Well, Jim, the Enterprise might be a wreck and some might be calling for her to be scrapped, but I promise you, by the time we’re through with her, she’ll be better than new. You just leave her to me. They’ll want to rechristen her the USS Montgomery as thanks for my services to Starfleet, but I’ll insist they keep the name Enterprise because I’m a generous soul.”  
“Perhaps you should request the admiralty name the Academy’s engineering hall after you.”  
Scotty, Uhura, and Keenser stared at Spock.  
He appeared aloof. “It is a logical request.”  
Scotty recovered first. “Aye, maybe I will.”  
As if that was enough to make up his mind, Scotty slapped his knees, pushed himself to his feet and practically charged to the door.  
…Stopping only to ensure Keenser followed him out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chekov was the next in. He wore a look of nervousness, like he feared he wouldn’t be allowed to enter.  
“Ensign Chekov, I assure you your presence is welcome,” Spock said.  
He nodded and slipped in, wide eyes locked onto the captain’s inert form. “He is alive?”  
“Yes,” Uhura said. She placed her PADD on the bed, next to Jim’s hand. “I’m sure he’d be happy to know you came by.”  
Chekov edged forward.  
“There is no need to be anxious, Ensign,” Spock said.  
Chekov startled, then apologised, nerves making his accent thicker. “It’s just… I have never seen… he is very sick.”  
Sometimes they all forgot how young Pavel Chekov really was. Uhura shot Spock a look, one he quickly understood. A slight nod of the head signified his passing over the conversation to her.  
“It’s strange to see him like this, isn’t it?” she said. “Especially with all these strange machines between him and us.”  
“What if I touch something accidentally? It might…”  
“It’s all right, Pavel. Nothing will happen.” She held out her hand. “It’s fine. Don’t worry.”  
Stepping carefully up to the bed, like he had to pick his way through a minefield, Chekov took her hand. She placed it atop Kirk’s, making sure Chekov’s fingers rested against the steady, if slow, pulse. A stream of relieved Russian washed out of Chekov, and instantly the young man became more animated, chatting rapidly, telling Kirk everything he could about anything he could think of.  
Which was a lot. Mostly about Russia and how amazing the country was and how, when the ‘Keptin’ was ready, Chekov would happily take him there and introduce him to his mother’s cooking and proper vodka.  
Uhura stepped back while Chekov chattered away, standing by Spock, their hands just barely touching. They needed no words to share each other’s strength. From this position though, she could understand Pavel’s nerves. Kirk did seem lost behind a shield of medical equipment, numerous IVs feeding a range of drugs into him, a respirator supporting his breathing until he could manage on his own. She turned her eyes to the monitor, reassuring herself he was alive, he hadn’t been forever lost. All they had to do now was make sure he knew he wasn’t alone.  
The sun began its descent as Chekov continued. He was halfway through explaining how Russians invented hover technology when his communicator chimed and upon answering it, a young woman’s voice asked where he was and did he know he was late? Chekov leapt to his feet with an exclamation of surprise and a hurried apology. He said his farewells and dashed out of the room, promising to return as soon as he could. Uhura laughed. Somehow, she didn’t think Kirk would be too upset to know Chekov had ditched him for a date.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Pike was the last one in. It was near midnight; he had been standing outside Jim’s room for the better half of the day. Whether he had been too scared to force himself to go in or someone else had beat him to it, something had always been in the way. When the young ensign, ‘What was his name? Checo? Cheeky? Chekov? Ah I don’t know…’ finally ran from the room like his ass was on fire, he shuffled his feet across the doorway and over to Jim’s bed. He looked down upon the mass of machines and tubes and the near-heaving mass that was Jim Kirk; reduced to life support and artificial respirators. The once spirited and bouncy young man, now sprawled out amidst a collection of medical equipment, pale and shivering for breath. The sight of it all made Chris’ head spin and he suddenly felt like he might retch. He pulled up the nearest chair and leaned forward to rest his head on the edge of the biobed. Before he knew it he had fallen asleep, only to be awoken by a soft hand on his shoulder.  
“Phil..?” Chris mumbled.  
“Yeah sweetheart, come on… Let’s get you to bed Chrissy.” Came the voice of Doctor Philip Boyce, longstanding CMO and keeper of the key to Chris’ heart.  
“But Jim-” Pike tried to argue.  
“Will still be here in the morning. Come on darlin’...” Phil retorted, heaving Chris onto his feet and slinging on arm over his shoulder to basically carry him to their shared quarters and into bed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bones had tried to go visit Jim multiple times throughout the day, but there was always someone with him, and he needed to be alone with Jim. He supposed he should have expected that, considering the fact that the crew had become like family. And yet he was still disappointed when he returned back home and flopped onto the couch. Perhaps tomorrow he could slip in early before anyone could arrive and lock himself in with Jim to finally get to just be with him. For nearly three years now it had been him, Jim, and God knows how many other crew members. He missed their academy days, when it was just Bones and Jim against the world. He missed coming home to see Jim beaming at him from his bed. Surprisingly enough he even missed being woken up at ungodly hours to Jim coming home from the bar, bruised and battered and having to clean him up. Most of all, he just missed Jim. His Jim.  
He reached for his PADD and pulled up a picture of he and Jim from their graduation. They were both in their red starfleet academy uniforms with smiles on their faces. They both looked so young… Bones ran his hand over his face. He could feel the day-old stubble and the bags under his eyes. He laid down on the couch, still staring at the picture. If you looked close enough you could see Bones’ tags on Jim and vice versa: an old Starfleet tradition. You are supposed to give your tags to the one person that helped you get through academy. And since neither of their mothers could attend their graduation, Jim’s being in Iowa working, and Bones’ being in Georgia, they weren’t sure who to give them to.  
But the more Jim had thought about it, the more he realized, it wasn’t his mother that helped him through the academy. It wasn’t his mother that talked him through tough times and patched him up after he came home late from the bar. It was Bones. It was always Bones. His best friend, his roommate, his wingman. So he had approached the newly official doctor and offered them to him. Which Bones had graciously accepted and traded for his own, for the same reasons. It wasn’t his mother that had let him vent about patients or given him a shoulder to cry on when he was missing his little girl. It was Jim. It was always Jim. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spock stepped up to the bed once again. A nurse entered briefly, running various checks and straightening blankets that, to Spock’s eye, needed no such thing, before disappearing as quietly as he had appeared. As Spock gazed at his friend, at the man whose death had undone him in a way he had not felt since the loss of Vulcan, a sudden rush of emotion overcame him (I’m talking to the half human part of you) and he placed a hand atop Jim’s. It was, of course, cold by Vulcan standards but, he knew, too warm for a human. As calm as Jim appeared on the outside beneath the medical equipment, a fierce battle waged inside his body, one Spock felt certain Jim would overcome in time.  
“You are not alone, Jim,” Spock said. “We will not leave you.”  
There came a gentle knock at the door. Pulling his hand away, Spock looked up, expecting Uhura but seeing Sulu instead.  
“Commander,” Sulu greeted as he entered the room.  
“Lieutenant.” Spock noted the small object Sulu held in his hands. “A gift?”  
Sulu nodded. “Music. I know they’re still not sure about coma patients hearing things, but I know if it was me, I’d want some background noise, something other than beeping.” He placed the small device on the stand beside the bed. “I made a few playlists for you, Captain,” Sulu said as he tapped on the screen. “Should keep you entertained while you’re stuck here.” Classical music played out. Spock recognised Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata. “I got every song recorded by The Beastie Boys too, but I’m not sure Commander Spock’s ready for Twentieth Century hip hop. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure Doctor McCoy knows it’s on here.”  
Spock cocked an eyebrow at Sulu’s grin.  
“Oh, and there are a few audio books too. Fiction, poetry, some history textbooks you were talking about a couple of week back. I think you’ll like the one about Japanese mythology.” Sulu patted Kirk’s shoulder. “Consider it my way of saying thank you. I’m still alive because of what you did.” Sulu took a moment. “As soon as you’re better, we’ll have that rematch. One of these days you might actually beat me. You just need to work on your defensive parries. Not that I’ll go easy on you just because of this. You’d probably assign some awful duty to me if I did. Anyway, sorry this has to be a short visit but I’m helping out in one of the shelters tonight. Rest up, Captain. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”  
Sulu left. Spock noted the new confidence in the helmsman’s stride. Not that Sulu had ever been particularly shy, withdrawn or unwilling to stand his ground, but taking command had suited him. Spock considered the likelihood of Sulu taking command opportunities elsewhere within Starfleet. Perhaps, with the Enterprise likely to undergo a prolonged refit, Sulu would transfer elsewhere.  
And yet such speculation was illogical, because Spock did not know Sulu’s personal thoughts, nor would it matter to the successful running of the Enterprise should Sulu decide to pursue other assignments. Spock acknowledged his concern for Jim had taken its toll on his emotional control. Thankfully, Uhura returned, her timely arrival allowing him to ignore his idle and useless thinking. It was most unbecoming of a Vulcan. He was clearly in need of rest and meditation.  
He took a mental step back from his emotions, embraced logic and held on tight.  
“Beethoven,” Uhura commented softly, listening to the music. The piece had changed to one Spock could not immediately identify. “Isn’t this from the Enterprise Quartet performance last month?” She closed her eyes. “Yes, absolutely. I’d recognise Ensign Darwin’s viola anywhere.”  
Uhura’s talents never failed to impress him.  
She opened her eyes again and gave him a firm look. “Go. I’ve got him. Besides, Doctor McCoy will be back soon. And Doctor Marcus called while I was away, asking to visit.”  
Spock nodded. “And I should contact New Vulcan. I do not know if he has been informed of the day’s developments.”  
“All right. Get some rest. You’re exhausted, Spock.”  
She returned to her seat, paused the music in-between performances and resumed reading. Forcing himself to not give into emotion, not to linger any longer, Spock left. On the way to the hospital’s canteen, he passed Carol Marcus. Dressed sombrely, her face pale and drawn, she nevertheless greeted him kindly.  
And the furry thing in her arms trilled softly.  
“A tribble,” Spock observed. “The tribble?”  
“Yes. I thought it might help.”  
“Does Doctor McCoy know it has been removed from the Enterprise?”  
“Yes. Section Thirty-One, however, do not know it is in my care.”  
Spock chose not to comment on that. “Ensure it is not fed.”  
“Oh, I know,” she said quietly, one finger idly stroking the creature’s thick fur. “I was completing a research program at the Academy during the recent infestation.”  
They went their separate ways. Carol entered the room. Uhura paused reading, but Carol indicated for her to continue. Languages might not be her speciality, but Carol appreciated mastery when she was in its presence, and if there was one thing she knew about Nyota Uhura, it was her unparalleled talent for languages. It was the one thing everyone knew about her. Her reputation preceded her and, as Carol could now hear, for a bloody good reason too.  
Carefully placing the tribble under Jim’s hand, she listened as its trills stepped up a notch. The sound unwound some of the tension wrapped around her, the headache she’d had since the Vengeance (Dad, why did you have to start this? Why were you so angry? Why didn’t I know? Why didn’t I stop you/save you?) backing off ever so slightly. She glanced over her shoulder at the readout, hoping to see some kind of change, as if the tribble’s purring might somehow reach Jim.  
But it didn’t. Of course it didn’t. Maybe she was lost right now, confused and hurting, but she was still a scientist and she knew enough of real life to know a tribble didn’t bring someone out of a coma.  
“…Doctor Marcus?”  
She startled, realising Uhura must’ve been calling her name for a while. “Yes?”  
“Are you all right?”  
A tremulous sigh escaped her. “No.” But she wrenched all the pain in, all the confusion and the anguish and refused to let it out in front of this woman she barely knew.  
“Doctor… Carol, if you need anything, call. Don’t go through it alone.”  
There was so much warmth in Uhura’s voice, so much compassion, so real and so heartfelt, Carol’s tears sprung anew. “Thank you.”  
The tribble sighed cheerfully in the silence between them. A bubble of laughter burst out of Carol, short-lived but a laugh nonetheless.  
Uhura stood, indicating to Carol she should take the chair. “You look exhausted.”  
She was. When had she last slept and not seen… not had to rewatch… listen to the cracking…? A shudder worked through her. Uhura was at her side in an instant, guiding her to the chair. Those hands, delicate and warm, rubbed Carol’s back as spasms rocked her.  
“Are you going to be sick?”  
Carol shook her head. How could she be sick when she’d barely eaten in days?  
Dad.  
She dry heaved. Uhura knelt down in front of her, not speaking until Carol met her eyes. “You need to talk to someone,” she said firmly.  
“They’ve assigned me grief counselling.”  
“Have you been?”  
“No. How can I?”  
“Because you’re not what your father did and you deserve to mourn him.”  
And just like that, Uhura cut through days of denial. Carol bent double, sobs shaking her. “Khan crushed his skull. Every time I close my eyes…” Her hands shook, her body convulsing with horror, just as it had in the immediate aftermath, and then, beamed into the cell, the nightmare crawling over her like a host of ants she couldn’t shake off… couldn’t break away… The memory of her father’s death bled over her.  
Arms wrapped around her. “Don’t. Don’t think about that. Think about the man you loved. Remember the man who raised you, the man who was proud of his daughter.”  
Unable to speak, Carol nodded.  
“And go to your grief counsellor.”  
Carol pulled away, a trembling hand brushing away the tears. She spared a glance at Jim then, remembering how he’d tried to comfort her in the brig, even when the ship quaked around them.  
Maybe it was time to steady herself. She pulled in a deep, calming breath and stood.  
“Thank you, Uhura.”  
“Nyota.”  
“Nyota.” Carol managed a brief approximation of a smile. “Thank you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He had set his alarm for 5 A.M. so he could get there before anyone had the chance. Perhaps he was being selfish, but he didn’t really care. He had know Jim the longest and he would be damned if he didn’t get just a few hours alone with his best friend. He threw on his nearest blue uniform and a pair of slacks, grabbed his white med-kit and headed out the door. He arrived at precisely 5:30 and rushed (unnecessarily) to get to Jim’s room. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that it was empty, save for the Captain. He turned to the door to scan his keycard and lock it. “Lights-- 30%,” he said, striding over to Jim. He took a few moments to check his vitals and read over any reports that had been made on his recovery. He was disheartened to learn that Jim had developed a fever. He gently laid his hand over Jim’s forehead, checking to be sure. He did, of course, have a fever, but seeing as he only had his med-kit, there wasn’t much he could do.  
He scanned the room for anything, anything at all that could be useful, and he spotted a pitcher and a rag sitting in a basin in the corner. More for decoration than anything, but it would have to do. He poured a generous amount of the water in the pitcher onto the rag, ringing it out before taking it over to Jim and placing it on his forehead. It reminded him of one of their journeys back to Earth. They had gone to see Bones’ mother when Jim had contracted some allergic reaction to God knows what. Bones hadn’t thought to bring his med-kit, so they had been forced to old fashioned techniques from before the days of hypos and tricorders. Just the thought of it made Bones laugh, something that had not been done in days… He reached out and grabbed Jim’s hand, squeezing gently.  
“Come on Jim… you can do this, you can pull through. You have to… I swear, if you die and leave me alone out there in space i will personally find you in heaven and kick your halo-wearing ass all the way back to Iowa. So come on Jim, please… for me… do something, anything!” After a minute or so with no change, he began to raise his voice. “I know you can hear me dammit! So do something! Blink or twitch or fucking squeeze my hand! Please Jim… please…” his voice shrank back to a whisper as tears began to roll down his cheeks and drip off his chin onto their hands.  
He pulled Uhura’s chair around and sat down, laying his head on Jim’s arm. He gave up on trying to wipe off the tears, because just as quickly as he could wipe them away, new ones would come running down in their wake. So he resorted to using Jim’s arm to hide his face instead. He really needed one of his Captain’s almighty pep-talks right about now. Something along the lines of ‘Bones, stop worrying. I’ll be fine. Aren’t i always? So just get out there and keep doing what you’re doing. Oh, and save a few drinks for when i return.’ Bones smiled a little, hearing everything in Jim’s voice, but his smile quickly faded when reality hit him that he may never hear Jim’s voice again. He started wondering when the last time he heard Jim call him Bones had been…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Doctor startled awake, clicking on his PADD to see that it was only just now 8 A.M. He stood up, cracking his back and knuckles. He checked Jim’s vitals once again and, seeing that everything was looking slightly better than when he had first arrived, breathed a sigh of relief. He redampened the rag over Jim’s forehead and reapplied it with a gentle kiss to the temple. No one was around to see, so the doctor decided it would be alright for just one tiny show of affection. But then one turned to two, when he kissed Jim’s hand a few minutes later. And then two turned to three when he ghosted his lips over Jim’s a while after that.

He knew no one could see in, but he still would constantly scan the room for any intruders. Everyone seemed to get the memo (Yes, that’s right, he, Doctor Leonard McCoy actually sent out a memo), for no one disturbed their peace nearly all day. One nurse requested entrance, but only to bring Bones a plate of freshly baked chicken and green beans. It may have been Jim lying there in that hospital bed, but Bones was in just as much a position to be taken care of. He thanked the nurse as she scuttled out, re-locking the door behind her. This was the first real, hot meal Bones had eaten in days. Stale bits of cereal and oyster crackers don’t quite count as a meal. It smelled delicious. The green beans had always been Jim’s favorite, because that was how his mom used to make them. They were salty with just a hint of cinnamon and bits of bacon. The bacon of course was Jim’s favorite part. He wished Jim were here with him. Not just lying stiff in a bed, but actually awake and talking and alive. Really alive. Bones just wanted to see the spark in those bright blue eyes return; wanted to see the radiant smile and the little dimples that Spock found so incredibly fascinating.

Bones finished eating and set his plate on the nearest table to be dealt with later. He checked Jim’s vitals one last time before resuming his place in the chair next to the bed. He sat down, groaning like an old man. He then started to talk. Not about anything in particular, just talking, as if Jim could hear him. He talked about patients and booze and Starfleet. He talked about Joanna and about Elena, his mother, and how she was worried sick about “her boys” as she called the two of them. She had practically adopted Jim at this point anyway. Any time they were on shore leave, both he and Bones would drive out to Georgia to visit. Bones smiled at the thought of seeing his mother’s face light up when she saw their hovercar pull into the driveway. She would always rush out and greet them, pulling them both into a hug. She was the only one Jim would allow to call him James. It was somewhat sweet, really.

Time slipped by, minutes turned to hours, and still Bones sat, talking to his best friend as if nothing were wrong. As if Jim were sitting there talking with him. Occasionally he would ask Jim a question, only to look down at his feet and frown a few seconds later. By the time he had run out of things to say, it was nearly midnight. He replaced Jim’s rag one more time, checking to see if the fever had gone down any (it had, thankfully), and sat back down. He reached up and grabbed Jim’s hand again, gently running his thumb over Jim’s knuckles. He thought back to earlier. Of him crying and begging for Jim to move even the slightest bit. He almost wanted to cry again, but he knew that wouldn’t do either of them any good, so he simply sat, with Jim’s hand in his, waiting.

Eventually the lights kicked off (standard procedure) and they sat in darkness, the only noises to be heard were the beeping of the monitors and Bones’ uneven breathing. Bones squeezed Jim’s hand one last time before leaning his head forward to rest on the bed. 

And then he felt it; the lightest of squeezes. It was so faint he almost missed it, but he smiled, and slurred, “I knew you could hear me…” before falling asleep next to his best friend, his wingman, his Captain. His Jim.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bones was shaken awake by a very sleepy Uhura. He rubbed his eyes and tried to focus, which was nearly impossible in the dim lighting. He shook his head, but could only focus on one thing. Jim.

He watched the regulated rise and fall of Jim’s chest, still relying heavily on machines. He sighed and dropped his head, suddenly focusing on their hands. Jim’s was still gently curled around Bones’, his one sign of life. Bones’ heart stilled and he felt as though he were going to cry again. No matter how many times Uhura assured him that she would look after him, Bones didn’t want to let go. Jim had come back from the brink of death, just to squeeze his hand. He had let Bones know that he was okay, and Bones would be damned if he left him now.  
“Doctor McCoy?” She whispered.  
“Hm?” He replied.  
“McCoy. Go home. Get some rest, please…” She said, voice barely above a whisper. He simply shook his head.  
“I’m not leaving him.”  
“Doctor, I assure you, I can handle-” She started.  
“Lieutenant I’m NOT leaving.” Uhura nodded and left them. “Can you believe that Jim?” He said, turning to his best friend. “She wanted me to leave you! I mean, I’m sure she had good intentions, but hell no! No way am I leaving you alone with them for another day. I’ll be here with you until you wake up, okay? Just please make it soon, cause I’m getting kind of gross, okay?” And with that he laid his head back down and fell back asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Four days, three meals, and one shower later and Bones was still sitting next to the hospital bed. He had let few people in, limiting it only to the “family” of the bridge. Spock and Uhura had been in to visit the most. Chekov had come in twice, Sulu had only been able to get away once. But he had stayed and had a full conversation until nearly 10 P.M. Bones had to shuffle him out or he never would have left.

Bones had begun to allow day visitors, but after 10 P.M. Jim was his. He knew that people had begun to worry about him, but there were too many things to be truly worried about than the sanity and composure of one doctor. He ran around all day, stressing about every little detail. He had begun work on a new serum that could potentially speed up Jim’s healing process. However, the sequencing was not quite right. It was missing something but he couldn’t figure out what and he was about to crack under the stress. 

That’s why the nights were his, and his alone. He could just sit and talk to Jim, about anything and everything. He ranted about patients or his slacking level of alcohol (“It’s your damn fault Jim. I could be drunk out of my mind right now, but SOMEONE *glares at Jim* had to go and be all heroic and shit.”) This had become a routine. Every night he would sit next to the bed and talk for hours until he felt his eyelids start to droop, he would kiss Jim’s forehead and then lay his head next to Jim’s side. And every night he would gently squeeze Jim’s hand and wait. And every night, after a few minutes of waiting, Jim would (faintly) squeeze back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After a week of the same routine of wake up- check vitals- work on serum- sleep, something changed. 

Bones woke up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He tried to stand up, but was a little wobbly, still not completely awake. He stumbled over to the table to check Jim’s vitals, but something was off. It was too quiet… He shook his head and the realization hit him. The monitors… they had gone silent… a sudden wave of panic swept over him. No. Jim Kirk couldn’t be dead. Not again. He frantically checked for a pulse, but his fears were confirmed when he was met with nothing but a cold body.

Bones slammed the door open and raced down the hallway to his office. He scrambled to grab the serum and drain it into a hypo. This would work, it had to. He was not losing Jim again. He was not delivering the news to Jim’s mother, or his own for that matter.

He could feel the tears trying to cloud his eyes, but now was not the time. He darted back down the hallway, praying that the room was still empty. Thank the stars it was. He took a moment to catch his breath and blink back his tears. He carefully approached Jim’s bed. Jim would kill him if he knew how many hypos he had jammed into his neck. This could be the last one… he paused, then got on with it, forcefully jabbing the hypo into Jim’s neck.

He grabbed Jim’s hand again, and waited, not even daring to breathe… After two minutes, there was still nothing. He suddenly felt nauseous. He had failed… He had failed his best friend, for the last time. He sank to his knees, and began to sob, his chest heaving and his entire body wracked with tremors. And yet he still held onto Jim’s hand, for even as cold as it was, it was all he had left to hang on to. In amongst his heart-wrenching sobs, he failed to hear the faint beep of the machines. Until it came again, and again. He stood quickly, making himself a little lightheaded, and stared in disbelief. Jim was alive. Barely, but he would take his wins where he could get them. Suddenly the pulse was uneven and spastic. He rushed around the bed, pulling a tricorder out of the drawer next to him. He let it hover over Jim. Shit, he didn’t even need the tricorder to realize what was wrong. Jim was trying to breathe, but there were all these damn tubes in the way. He was frantically (yet carefully) pulling tubes away from Jim, trying to give him some space. Jim starts seizing and and convulsing and Bones nearly has a heart attack, he rushes around Jim doing this and that; resetting machines, clearing the space and finally jabbing another hypo into Jim’s neck. He immediately stopped seizing and was laid flat on the bed, unmoving. Bones leaned over the bed, holding Jim’s face in his hands. 

“Dammit Jim, you bastard. Wake up. For the love of God. FOR THE LOVE OF ME, PLEASE…” Bones leaned down and kissed the man beneath him. As soon as he pulled away, Jim twitched again, before gasping for breath. Bones hadn’t realized how much he had missed seeing those gorgeous baby blues until just now. 

Jim’s eyes flew open and he frantically reached for the closest object available, which just so happened to be the beaming doctor. Jim stared up at him like he had hung the moon and Bones could feel his breath catch in his throat, which he swallowed before schluffing it off like it was nothing.

“Nice to see little Miss Sleeping Beauty is finally awake.” He joked.

“I could hear you, you know…” Jim mumbled softly, after catching his breath. Leonard froze. 

“What all did you hear?” He stuttered.

“Everything…” Jim whispered.

“Oh…” Bones replied, not sure whether to be scared or relieved. He hung his head.

“I wanted to wake up. I wanted to talk to you and finish all of the stories you couldn’t finish telling, and I wanted so badly to let you know I was alright.” Jim coughed and sputtered a little bit, before continuing. “But I couldn’t Bones. I was trapped inside my own head and you weren’t there to tell me how big of an ass I am or how stupid I was for going into that damn core in the first place, but that it was okay because I was gonna be okay cause you were gonna fix me like you always do. I was so scared Bones…” Jim was on the verge of tears, and frankly, so was Leonard.

“Dammit Jim, I was scared out of my damn mind! I was terrified that you weren’t gonna wake up and that I would never hear you call me Bones again. I was so bloody scared that you were going to die and leave me out here in space all alone. You just had to be the hero and go into that fucking core, didn’t you? Without even a lick of concern for yourself. Typical James Kirk…” Bones said, shaking his head and crossing his arms across his chest.

“I’m sorry Bones…” Jim whispered in reply. Bones said nothing, but instead went to the basin in the corner. He splashed a bit of water onto his face, drying it with the rag, before wetting the rag and bringing it over to Jim and wiping his face. Jim didn’t fight it, he knew it was Bones’ way of accepting an apology. He had always taken care of Jim, no matter how mad he was. It was how he dealt with things...  
Bones returned the rag to the corner and shuffled back to Jim’s bed. He checked his vitals to be sure he was stable before taking a step back and crossing his arms again.  
“Well, since you seem to be relatively normal, I guess you don’t need me to sit here and baby you anymore.” He turned to walk out. He reached the door, but before he could open it he heard the most pitiful sound.

“Bones… Don’t go…” 

A smirk danced across his face. Bones turned around to see Jim reaching for him. He sighed then shuffled back over to the bed. He grabbed Jim’s hand and gave it a light squeeze, before leaning down to kiss his lips, which Jim could finally return. He might’ve been in a coma for nearly two weeks, but Jim Kirk still kissed better than any crew member on the entire Enterprise. Not that Bones would know, but he was willing to take Jim’s word for it.


End file.
